


Little Moments

by Sehrezad



Category: Nikita (TV 2010)
Genre: F/M, Gen, Grocery Shopping, Mikita, Mission: Impossible... or not, Morning Routines, Nikita is a blanket snatcher, Pancakes, Spring Cleaning, doing the laundry
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-29
Updated: 2015-03-12
Packaged: 2018-03-09 14:10:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 3,290
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3252713
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sehrezad/pseuds/Sehrezad
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Maybe it will be a collection of short one-shots – mainly Mikita. Because rogue government assassins also have to live the everyday life, right?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Nikita was eyeing the shopping cart critically as she was strolling the dairy isle.

She'd been mentally running through the items that had yet to be acquired when her eyes fell on a box of Honey Smacks… again. She could swear that she'd already got rid of it at least three times but the damned thing just kept reappearing in the cart. This time it was strategically hid behind some bottles of orange juice.

Nikita sighed then, grabbing four cartons of milk, she turned back to the cereals.

She'd just put the box back on the shelf when Michael walked up to her. She watched with narrowed eyes as he placed a ridiculously large bag of frozen beans into the cart, then raised an eyebrow when he gave her an innocent look after adjusting the bag to, no doubt, cover another box of Honey Smacks.

"Do you ever read the ingredients of these things?" she asked, reaching for the box.

"I'd rather eat it than read it," Michael shrugged.

"In that case let me tell you that this contains more sugar than it does anything else. Why don't you eat something healthier?"

"I love sugar."

"And I love you," she countered, placing that box back on the shelf, too. "Let's get out of here. I think we're done."

Michael gave a last longing look to the sweet cereal then turned around defeated. Nikita chuckled at Michael's retreating form then, with a shake of her head and an amused smile, she grabbed one of those damned red boxes.


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I don't own anything.

* * *

Michael found it astonishing really that Nikita, who was able to wander around the house in next to nothing no matter the weather, was a blanket snatcher.

He let out an annoyed snort as he adjusted his position, spooning the woman sleeping next to him and at the same time pulling on the edge of the blanket that hardly covered his side.

He was freezing his ass off… literally.

In her sleep, Nikita snuggled closer to him and for a moment he thought that that was his moment – he would be able to reclaim his share of the blanket. Man, was he wrong. Nikita sighed contentedly then yanked on the blanket, claiming it as hers just like she'd done with the other two she was sleeping under.

Michael rolled onto his back and stared up at the ceiling, frustrated. When he heard shuffling next to him, he turned to look at Nikita, who was apparently disturbed in her sleep by the loss of his body warmth.  _Serves you right_ , Michael thought as he watched the still sleeping woman trying to regain the lost warmth. He watched bemused as Nikita turned towards him, gathering the blankets in front of her and wiggling a little under the pile of blankets to make sure that she was covered everywhere then, with a sigh, she was completely out again.

Annoyed as he was, he couldn't help the loving smile that crept on his face.

It was indeed astonishing. Just like the fact that she was able to sleep under any number of blankets even in the hottest nights of summer. Of which the present night was not one as a shiver running through his body so kindly reminded him.

He sighed then rolled on his side again, facing Nikita, and started nuzzling her nose with his. He waited until she started shifting towards him then, when her arm came out to circle his body, he grabbed Nikita and, with a swift movement, he turned on his back, pulling the woman on top of him, with blankets and all.

As Nikita settled over him with a sleepy chuckle – the little minx wasn't asleep after all -, he wasn't feeling cold anymore.


	3. Chapter 3

_Disclaimer: I don't own anything._

* * *

"Hey, babe," Michael walked out of the bathroom, drying his hair with a towel and wearing only a pair of jeans. "You saw my green tee? You know, the one with the buttons?"

Nikita looked up from folding the clothes on the bed and gave him an appreciative look that wasn't lost on the man. "Whyever do you need that tee?" she asked with a cheeky grin.

Michael stopped what he was doing and gave her a smirk, feeling smug. "Well," he walked up to her. "As much as I'd like to parade around showing off my incredible upper body," he smiled, leaning down to give the woman a kiss. "I doubt that Birkhoff would be too happy about it."

"I don't care about him," Nikita almost pouted as she ran her fingers over his bare chest.

"Well, he does give us a place to stay so…" He straightened. "Where's my tee?"

"I don't know," Nikita shrugged. "Maybe with your socks," she pondered from over a pile of mismatched socks. "I swear that damn machine keeps eating them," she huffed, pushing the socks aside.

She looked so incredibly domestic sitting on their bed, folding clothes that it brought an affectionate smile on Michael's face… at least until he spotted the colorful item she started to fold.

"Are those... Birkhoff's boxers?" With a raised eyebrow, he pointed at the garment in his girlfriend's hands. "Why are you folding his boxers?"

"Well, between the two of you, I'm stuck with laundry duty," Nikita explained matter-of-factly, reaching for another pair of Nerd's eccentric underwear. "So yes, they are… aww, aren't they cute?" she smiled, showing him their friend's Star Trek themed underwear. "We should get you one, too."

Michael gave her a disturbed frown. What they should get was their own place.

* * *

_Thanks for reading!_


	4. Chapter 4

_Disclaimer: I don't own anything._

* * *

Michael looked around and wondered how they'd come to this. It was a full-blown disaster… one whose mess, no doubt, he would be forced to clean up.

The kitchen counter was covered with flour, spackled with wet spots of batter and egg while dirty spoons of various kinds were haphazardly thrown over it. They just wouldn't believe that a whisk would work the best.

His gaze turned to the persons responsible for the mess and couldn't help but smile.

There was a scene he'd never thought that he'd see: Alex, Birkhoff and Nikita were making pancakes… or at least they were trying. They were tackling the task with the confidence of well-trained assassins and genius hackers but Michael could see that they were failing miserably.

While the pile of dirty bowls was steadily growing in the sink – because how hard can it be to find the right size of bowl? – the pile of successfully fried pancakes remained alarmingly low even though Michael was sure that with the amount of flour and milk they were alternately adding to the batter, they should already have had pancakes enough for an army.

Anyway, the trio was blissfully unaware of their failure.

Alex was sitting on the counter next to the stove, merrily munching on yet another failed attempt of a pancake, while Birkhoff declared that this time he would be able to flip the pancake in the air.

He was wrong.

Michael chuckled at the nerd's failed attempt that would never get old – except that he was the one who would have to scrap the batter off the hood – and smiled down at Nikita who snuggled up next to him, joining in his silent pondering. With the others' joyful banter in the background, he held her gaze for a long time, falling in love with her happy and relaxed expression.

Well, all things considered, it was a mess he was more than happy to deal with, he thought wiping away a flour patch from Nikita's cheek.

* * *

_Thanks for reading!_


	5. Chapter 5

_Disclaimer: I don't own anything._

* * *

Nikita found their morning routine comforting.

By the time she'd pad into the kitchen, still wearing her nightwear and bed hair, Michael'd have already made the morning coffee and Birkhoff would have been over his first two cans of Fueler. No morning coffee for the nerd.

Michael would kiss her good morning while Birkhoff would make a side-remark without getting his eyes off of his computer screen. They would either ignore him or, just to spite him, make a great show of making out in the kitchen. That was always fun.

She would silently sip her coffee while admiring the sight that was Michael moving in the kitchen with practiced ease while preparing breakfast. Making pancakes… That was her favorite scene. Somehow seeing the man flipping pancakes made her feel all warm and fuzzy inside.

Other times, she'd join him, tease him with her special veggie omelet but, ultimately, let him sneak some bacon on his plate. She'd smile at his annoyed expression as he begrudgingly let Birkhoff snatch the rest of it after the inviting smell of food had finally coaxed him into joining them and getting some real food into his system before the day would begin. After all, the man needed his meat… and she wasn't really sure whether Birkhoff had eaten any vegetables… ever.

They'd talk and laugh… and pretend, just for a short while, that they were ordinary people with a normal life.

Or at occasions, they'd just disrupt their morning routine and Michael would bring her breakfast to bed, joining her under the covers for a lazy morning, letting the world go by without them for a little while.

She found that comforting, too.

* * *

_Thanks for reading!_


	6. Chapter 6

_Disclaimer: I don't own anything._

* * *

Birkhoff didn't like it. Going on a mission without a plan was never a wise thing. But tell that to Michael who'd been all wound up and ready to act… instead of using his head and getting prepared.

Well, it only served the man right to be left trudging in the pouring rain… the only problem with that was that Birkhoff was stuck coordinating and providing the missing intel.

He jumped surprised when bright lightening lit up the spacious living room and looked over at the sleeping form of his friend when it was quickly followed by a thundering crash. Nikita didn't even budge and he shook his head. Poor thing was out cold… at least she was sleeping now. Birkhoff knew that she'd been up all night.

"Birkhoff, you there?" he heard Michael's gruff voice through the headset. He wasn't a happy camper. "I have visual on the target, you copy that?"

"Yeah, yeah, Mickey. You're good to go. But, please, this time, don't screw up," he added as an afterthought. "This is your last chance so… don't let a doe-eyed kindergartener divert you from your objective... or an old lady frighten you. If you have to break an arm or something like that… go for it. You're doing it for Nikki."

All he got as an answer was a noncommittal grunt and when he turned his gaze on his screen, he could see the man enter the bakery. (He was still wondering why bakeries had security cams.) He watched with rapt attention as Michael walked up to the counter and exchanged some words with the girl behind it. Birkhoff almost groaned when the girl shook her head then turned towards the back door. And he grabbed the edge of his desk in alarm as he watched Michael reach under his trenched leather jacket. He would go for it… he would really go for it, Birkhoff thought with a wince.

He nervously flexed his fingers ready to delete the data of the security cam and eliminate every evidence of Michael ever being there, all the while wondering how he would explain the bloodshed in a downtown bakery to Nikita. It was that time of the month and she was moody as hell (not that he would blame her - from what he gathered, she had the cramps from hell) so he didn't dare to imagine how she'd react when she found out that Michael went all crazy assassin over an apple Danish.

Maybe the sugar rush would make her see that it was all worth it.

But then the girl reappeared with a large paper bag and Birkhoff let out a sigh of relief when he realized it was only his purse in Michael's hand.

He got it, Birkhoff smiled. He got that damned apple Danish that seemed to be out of stock in a 20-mile-radius area.

"And…" He was still watching the screen but his excitement wouldn't let him remain seated anymore. "Mission accomplished!" he yelled, throwing his fist into the air as Michael grabbed the bag. "Yes!"

"Whattissit?" came a sleepy question and Birkhoff looked at Nikita, who looked like death warmed up.

"Sorry," he told her sheepishly.

"Where's Michael?" the woman slowly sat up, pulling her knees under her chin and looking around the dark room.

"Birkhoff," the man heard his friend's voice through his headset. "Target acquired, I repeat, target acquired. Mission was a success."

"Copy that," Birkhoff acknowledged his friend. "Meet you back at headquarters," he told him then turned back to Nikita, getting the little piece of tech out of his ear.

"You've got a mission?" Nikita asked with a confused frown. "But I've just closed my eyes..."

"You have no idea," Birkhoff sighed, sitting down next to the woman and giving her a warm smile.

Who would have thought that getting Nikita's favorite apple Danish would turn into a mission of its own kind?

At least nobody got hurt.

* * *

_Thanks for reading!_


	7. Chapter 7

_Disclaimer: I don't own anything._

* * *

It was a beautiful early spring day. Very early actually… well, technically it was still winter… but it was beside the point. The sun was shining and although it didn't promise a warm day, it already provided the perfect weather after a long, grey winter. It was just the kind of weather that made Nikita want to forget about the fight her life had become and just spend the day on the beach strolling in the sand.

Too bad she had to contend with the open windows and the distant sound of the waves…

Speaking of which, she just couldn't believe that she'd let herself be roped into this. She grimaced as a piece of cobweb landed on her nose… then promptly sneezed. To hell with this whole house cleaning, she thought as she dropped the duster and went to the kitchen to pour a well-deserved glass of wine for herself, then she settled down by the counter.

At least the view was great, she acknowledged with a smirk as she watched Michael and Sean clean the huge windows of the living room, then she chuckled when she could hear Michael mutter something about her and large windows… oh, and living in a basement. She could sympathize, really, after all, watching the whole gang doing the house cleaning was just too surreal.

They did do the occasional hoovering and what not but come on… a full-fledged spring cleaning?! That just wasn't what they did. They should be cleaning their guns and not their windows, for God's sake.

But it seemed that Alex had a thing for a freakishly clean house… and she had the means to persuade everybody to join her. Well, more like she threatened everybody. That look, you just don't say no to.

And it left her dusting the house while the boys cleaned the windows. She hated it… the dusting. But when Birkhoff appeared in the living room, hair pulled back and wearing a pair of bright yellow rubber gloves and a long-suffering look, she actually considered herself the lucky one. After all, it wasn't her stuck with cleaning the bathrooms… all four of them.

She gave him an understanding smile as she raised her glass.

Birkhoff rolled his eyes and darted for the fridge.

It was time for a break.

* * *

_Thanks for reading!_


	8. Chapter 8

_Disclaimer: I don't own anything._

_I'm still not over my_ Nikita _obsession so there may be more... Thanks for sticking around!_

* * *

Birkhoff was lost in sweet oblivion, sitting in front of his computer staring into nothingness. He was jolted out of his reverie by the thundering voice of Michael.

"Birkhoff!"

He jumped startled but his surprise was directed at the piece of carrot he was chewing on. He frowned, remembering that they'd been all too tired after finishing the latest mission to get some real food, so he accepted the vegetable Nikita had offered him before she settled down on the couch with a plate of rabbit food. He eyed the carrot with a disgusted look but soon Michael's commanding figure demanded his attention.

The man was standing in the living room in nothing but a pair of boxer briefs… a pair of baby pink boxer briefs.

Birkhoff blinked… then he gulped. The look on Michael's face was not amused.

"What the hell did you do?" he asked, closing his eyes for a moment – no doubt to muster up some patience – when Nikita's snicker could be heard in the background.  _Not helping, Nikki_ , Birkhoff thought.

"Pink looks good on you, Mikey." Birkhoff winced as soon as the sentence left his mouth. So not the time for that. An exhausted Michael was an irritated Michael even without provoking him.

"I do not have pink boxers so I ask again… What the hell did you do?" Now he looked beyond pissed.  _Seriously?_  Birkhoff thought. If the man got all wound up because of a pair of pink boxer briefs, he seriously needed some sleep.

And so did Birkhoff. But the murderous look on Michael's face kept him alert. The man could look intimidating even in pink boxer briefs.

"The laundry?" he offered timidly, remembering that Michael, before heading for a shower, absentmindedly grabbed the garment from the pile of clothes he had dumped on the sofa in a messy heap.

Nikita stuffed a piece of carrot into her mouth.

"Did you even think about sorting the white from the dark… or you just stuffed your Angry Birds boxers in together with my briefs?"

"You mean that I shouldn't have?"

"Yeah, Birkhoff, that's what I mean. You don't put your red boxers in with the white laundry because the dye runs out and ruins my clothes."

"Oh... so that's why my tee has a strange shade to it. I thought it was the lights," he pondered inspecting his tee that poked out from under his shirt.

By that point, Nikita was holding a hand in front of her mouth and was concentrating on chewing and not laughing out.

But then her eyes went wide and she shot out of her seat towards the pile of clean clothes. She frantically searched through the pile and groaned when she found what she'd been looking for.

"Birkhoff," she whined holding her favorite teddy that used to be a beautiful shade of yellow but now had a sandy color and its lace trimming was torn, too. "You didn't check the temperature and the washing program, either?"

"What?" He so did not have the energy for that. "You said I should do the laundry. I did the laundry. That's not my fault that you failed to mention that it's more complicated than assembling IKEA furniture… So suck it up." The end of the sentence was somewhat muffled as Nikita's teddy landed on his face. Birkhoff sighed before pulling the garment off of his face.

"You don't hear me complaining about my shirt," he pointed out which earned him a frustrated growl from Michael as he turned, muttering something about sleep. Nikita, however, gave him a bemused smile before following the man.

Birkhoff chuckled when he saw the woman hitting Michael's pink-boxer-clad butt, whispering something to the man as she pressed herself to him. It actually coaxed a chuckle out of the cranky man.

Well, next time they should know better when they want to dump laundry duty on him.


End file.
